


Closer

by My_Trex_has_fleas



Series: Land and Sea [20]
Category: Poldark - All Media Types, Return to Treasure Island (TV 1996)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Lapdance, Lingerie, M/M, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 22:59:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5720164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Trex_has_fleas/pseuds/My_Trex_has_fleas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ross takes Jim on a stag do for one of his squad mates. Unbeknownst to Jim, Ross has picked the short straw to be the joke stripper complete with stockings, suspenders and corset. Cue Jim picking his jaw up off the ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closer

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-post from 500K Prompts.
> 
> The songs quoted from are as follows:
> 
> Shake the Disease - Depeche Mode  
> When Doves Cry - Quindon Tarver  
> Closer - Nine Inch Nails

Ross stared at the match in his hand. It stubbornly remained burnt. He crumbled the charred head and watched as a fine litter of carbon dust fell to the surface if the pub table. Around him, four faces watched in fascination and the sound of conspiratorial sniggering was loud in his ears.

You bastards.’ he said. ‘You motherfucking, cocksucking bastards.’

‘Fair’s fair Ross.’ Carter said. His smile was so wide it made him look a little demonic. ‘Burnt match gets the job.’

‘I can’t.’ Ross said. He knew he had no leg to stand on though. It was a time honoured and proud tradition of the 2nd Division Tank Corps.

‘You have to.’ said Digby. He and Richards exchanged looks. ‘Look if it’s because it’s Rupe, and you feel a bit weird then that’s…’ he paused for emphasis, ‘..just tough shit.’ There was a general round of raucous laughter. Ross heaved a sigh and considered his fate.

It wasn’t that he objected in principal to dressing up like a woman and giving Holmewood a lap dance. And Christ knew he’d been very lucky to avoid it up till now. Out of the ten captains of the 2nd Division six were married. Holmewood was now number seven. That left him, Jordan and Carter as the last remaining single men.

That last time it had happened, Carter had drawn the burnt match and Digby had got a right eyeful. Carter had decided to go all out and it had been a truly amazing sight. Ross knew he’d have some way to go to beating his performance.

‘Fine.’ he said. ‘But no fucking photographic evidence will be taken. And NO-ONE breathes a word of this to Jim.’

‘Worried he’ll want to come watch?’ Carter snickered.

‘No.’ Ross protested. ‘I’m worried that he’ll take one look at me in that get up and head for the fucking hills.’

‘He won’t.’ Digby grinned. ‘If he’s managed to put up with your moody arse for this long there’s no way some suspenders are going to change his mind.’

Ross glared at the gathered faces. He’d always wondered what would happen if he ever found someone he could down roots with. The accumulated wives and girlfriends were all accepted and basically considered as part of the clan, but his situation was a little different. He hadn’t been sure that they would look on Jim the same way, know that he was the other part of Ross. And he was Navy to boot.

He had been pleasantly surprised to find that his fears were unfounded. Jim had been merrily subsumed into the group of partners as easily as anyone else. In fact, the squad liked him so much Ross was often the secondary recipient of plans or arrangements.

‘Your round.’ Carter said, setting his almost empty pint glass down on the table. Ross got up, digging his wallet out of his back pocket and heading for the bar. The others watched him go.

‘I feel a little bad.’ Digby remarked and Carter snorted. ‘Maybe we shouldn’t have set him up to lose like that.’

‘Bollocks.’ Carter said. ‘Did you see how hard he fucking laughed at me? This is payback.’

‘Yeah, but mate you did make the ugliest fucking woman we’d ever seen.’ Jordan laughed.

‘That may be, but Ross has managed to escape every bloody draw. He’s due.’ Carter said.

‘Fuck, it’s going to be funny.’ Richards was almost giggling.

‘It fucking is.’ Carter said. They clinked their glasses and drained the contents.

***********

Ross got home a little after twelve. The taxi dropped him at the end of the lane that he lived down and he walked the rest of the way, letting the cool night air clear his head. He was pleasantly drunk, but not so much that he couldn’t function.

He got the front door, unlocking it and letting himself in. he could hear the sound of the TV from the living room. He hung up his coat, chucked his keys on the console table and went towards it. The room was in darkness, and the luminous glow of the TV showed him that Jim was lying on the sofa watching. He shifted and looked up as Ross came in, smiling at him.

‘Hey.’ he said. ‘You’re early.’ He got up, making room as Ross came in and sat next to him, leaning across and kissing Jim on the mouth. Then he snuggled up against him, Jim’s arm going around him, hand automatically moving to the back of Ross’ head and fingers dragging through his hair. ‘You and the boys have a good time?’

‘Yeah.’ Ross answered. ‘We were talking about the stag party.’ Jim chuckled.

‘I am very sorry I’m going to miss that.’ he said. ‘I would pay good money to see what you lot have come up with to embarrass him.’

‘Well, unfortunately it’s not every day the Brazilian navy comes to visit.’ Ross said.

‘No, it isn’t.’ Jim replied. He kissed Ross on the temple. ‘You eat?’

‘Not really.’ Ross said. Pork scratchings didn’t really count as food.

‘You want something?’ Jim asked and Ross hummed assent. ‘All right.’ He handed the remote to him and got up, and Ross fell down onto the sofa in the position Jim had just been occupying. He watched Jim go out the door and then started idly flicking through channels. He heard the sounds of Jim moving around the kitchen and smiled. He loved having him home. And Jim was home until after Christmas, having just finished a three month deployment to the Mediterranean. The credits for a film were just coming on as Jim came back in with a sandwich and a cup of tea which he handed to Ross, who was watching a giant pair of red lips on the screen with a bemused look on his face.

‘Brilliant.’ he said, flopping back down next to Ross and sticking his feet in Ross’ lap. ‘I love this film.’

‘What the fuck is it?’ Ross said around a mouthful of sandwich and Jim gave him a disbelieving look.

‘You don’t know what this is?’ he asked in that tone that Ross had become very familiar with in the last three years. Jim never ceased to be amazed at his lack of knowledge when it came to films. ‘How the fuck have you made it to twenty-nine without seeing the Rocky Horror Picture Show?’ He grabbed the remote from Ross and turned up the volume. Ross sighed. He knew better than to argue when Jim was in an educating mood, and he clearly was in one now. So he sat back, ate his sandwich and watched.

It wasn’t until they got to the grand entrance scene that he suddenly realised just how rapt Jim’s face was. He was totally immersed, not even responding to the foot rub he was getting. And Ross’ foot rubs usually had him purring like a big kitten by this point. Instead he watched, and Ross started to pay attention as the lift on the TV screen opened and a person came out.

‘Is that Tim Curry?’ he asked, secretly very proud of himself for recognising the actor.

‘Uh huh.’ Jim said, not looking away from the screen.

‘Oh.’ was all he could reply. ‘He looks very different.’

‘He looks fucking hot.’ Jim said absently. Ross frowned at him, as his words sank in.

‘You think he’s hot?’ he asked.

‘Not ordinarily.’ Jim replied. ‘There’s just something about him like this.’

‘But he’s dressed in a corset.’ Ross said.

‘I know.’ Jim’s voice was almost dreamy. ‘And look at those legs.’

The film ended and they went upstairs. It had had a very interesting effect on Jim apparently because he tackled Ross to the bed, practically ripped his clothes off and then rode him until they were both screaming.

It was only the next morning when Ross woke to the sound of the shower and Jim singing the words to Sweet Transvestite that he had his brainwave.

***********

It was fairly difficult to put his plan into action. He had a month. But then providence descended in the form of a call out for Jim to go to Copenhagen for three weeks to assist the Danish Navy with a problem with their PAAMS. Ross was inordinately proud of the fact that he had an extremely clever and somewhat acclaimed boyfriend. He dropped him off at Brize Norton, kissed him goodbye and waved him off.

The first thing was that he didn’t want anyone to catch wind of what he was doing. He kept his enquiries to places he’d have to commute to, rather than anything local.

The clothes were not as difficult to acquire as he’d expected. In fact once he got online he was astounded by the choice available to him. The final outfit was one he thought was just risqué enough without being too over the top. He considered stilettos and then remembered how Richards had fallen off of his, having borrowed them from his own wife. So instead he went for something a little more sensible. Then he considered accessories. Carter had been weighed down under a platinum blond wig and an enormous amount of rhinestone jewellery to complement his Marilyn Monroe look, but Ross knew that with what he had in mind neither of those would be practical. He was browsing a particularly interesting website when a pop-up advert caught his attention. He followed it.

The website it led him to had him opened mouthed in seconds as he took in the dazzling, and in some cases frightening, array of items. He knew that he and Jim veered very much towards the vanilla edge of bondage but he had never ever considered how much was actually available. Most of it didn’t appeal to him at all, and he knew that Jim would agree with him. But then he spotted something he very much liked the look of. He clicked through and realised he’d found exactly what he wanted. It was a moment of minutes to make his selection and purchase it.

With that part done he moved onto the next step.

***********

Emma was a delight. She was tiny and blond, and looked a little like a pixie.

But when she got going she was worse than any drill instructor Ross had ever had.

‘Again ladies.’ She trilled and the class groaned and went through the routine one more time. Ross was exhausted, dripping with sweat and feeling aches in places he hadn’t even realised he had muscles. All around him his classmates were in the same state. He wiped his palms down on his sweatpants and gripped the pole again, hoisting himself up.

He was a natural.

***********

‘So.’ Lucy said. ‘Have you found a club yet?’ Ross watched as she shovelled chips into her mouth and laughed.

‘I am amazed that you can even eat that much.’ he said and she shrugged.

‘I burn it off don’t I?’ she said and waved a chip at him. ‘You didn’t answer my question.’ Ross liked her very much. She was gorgeous, all thick glossy brown hair and green eyes and creamy skin. She was also a stripper in one of the most upmarket clubs in Bournemouth. She’d been helping Emma, who was her girlfriend, out with the classes and her face when she’d seen Ross, the only man in a class full of women, had been a picture. When he’d explained why he was there she’d laughed for a full twenty minutes and then kept him back after class to demonstrate her lap dancing technique. It had made him blush to the roots of his hair, but he’d been having private sessions with her for the last two weeks.

‘No.’ he said.

‘The offer is open.’ she said, ‘My boss said she’d be delighted to have you.’ The owner of her club was a woman, and a force to be reckoned with if Lucy’s accounts were anything to go by.

‘It’s getting them to agree.’ Ross sighed.

‘Just make it sound like it’s their idea.’ Lucy said grinning at him.

***********

It turned out to be surprisingly easy. And so there he was, in a hotel room on Bournemouth sea front going over the things he would need. The others would be arriving later, but Lucy had invited him to come to the club with her and she would get him ready for his grand entrance. He felt incredibly nervous, but he was very glad to have this chance to at least try out his routine before attempting it on Jim. Of course the way he planned to use it on him was a little more x-rated but at least it would be in the privacy of their own home.

The club Lucy worked at was thankfully very small and very exclusive and worked on a booking only system. She’d told Ross that there were another two parties booked for the evening, one a group of lesbian hens and the other a small consortium of Norwegian businessmen who worked for a well- known pleasure boat construction company that worked out of Poole. So his reputation would be quite safe.

He zipped up the bag and picked up his phone. It was almost three. Lucy would be there any minute. Once again he was very thankful that Jim was at the official welcome dinner for the officers of the visiting Brazilian frigate and would not be back until late, if he made it back at all. Ross had been to a couple of official functions with him and the overwhelming hotness of Jim in his dress uniform was sadly tempered by the enormous amount of alcohol that was consumed. So it may well be the case that he would stay in his cabin on the Dragon and only be home the next day after his watch. Ross had always thought of himself as a hard drinker but he’d long since realised that Jim could drink him under the table several times over and still be able to get up the next morning and function perfectly normally. It had been demonstrated a few times and the hangovers simply weren’t worth the contest.

There was a knock at the door and he went to it, opening ti and seeing Lucy standing there with a big grin on her face.

‘Show time.’ she said.

They walked from the hotel to the club, which thankfully only took five minutes. She took them in the side door and Ross followed her through a maze of passages and into the club. It was in an old building with wooden floors and black painted walls. There was only one main podium, solidly constructed of reclaimed polished wood. The pole in the middle was shiny chrome and the uplighters set into the edge of the podium made it look like it was bathed in light.

‘Bloody hell.’ Ross said and Lucy chuckled.

‘Come on.’ she said. ‘We’ll get you to have a couple of tries to get used to it and then we’ll get you dressed.’

**********

Jim sighed inwardly. Up ahead of him Sellar was talking to the captain of the Defensora. There was a problem. It seemed that an inordinately large number of officers had come down with a virulent form of food poisoning due to them going out the previous night and getting a late night/early morning kebab. They were in disgrace and the dinner was cancelled.

‘All dressed up and nowhere to fucking go.’ Preston grumbled.

‘At least we found out now.’ Halford said.

‘I wonder if they realise just how much effort has been put into tonight. The galleys going to fucking spit when they hear this.’ Jim said. Sellar finished his conversation, gave the Brazilian captain a friendly slap on the shoulder and came over to them.

‘Well that’s all off.’ he said. ‘I’d better go down and tell the others. The galley is going to lynch me.’

‘That’s what I said.’ Jim replied. Sellar shrugged.

‘Can’t be helped.’ he said, then looked at Jim. ‘At least you can go to your stag do now.’

‘Yeah.’ Preston said, her face lighting up. ‘We fucking can.’ All three of them had been invited by Holmewood but had had to beg off.

‘I don’t know.’ Jim said. ‘Ross said they’re going to some club in Bournemouth that’s like guest list only.’

‘So we call Carter and tell him to put our arses on the list.’ Preston said taking out her phone and dialling. She waited for him to answer then walked away a little, although she might not have bothered her voice was so loud. ‘Oi, motherfucker. We got the night off.’ There was a pause as she listened. ‘Yeah all three of us. Put us on the list. Brill, we’ll see you soon.’ She hung up and waved the phone triumphantly at Jim and Halford.

‘Sorted.’

**********

Ross sat in the chair with his back to the mirror. The tiny dressing room he was in was not use very regularly, the other dancers preferring the bigger communal one next door. It was grubby and dusty but it meant that he at least had some privacy.

In front of him, Lucy frowned in concentration, her tongue protruding just the tiniest bit between her lips as she worked. She was already made up for her set, her skin dusted with gold glitter and her eyes made up in elaborate Egyptian style make up.

‘Almost done.’ she said and Ross heaved a sigh. He felt like he’d been sitting there forever. ‘Look up.’ He tried not to blink as she got right in close brandishing the mascara wand like a weapon.

‘I don’t know how the fuck you do this every day.’ he said. Lucy laughed.

‘You get used to this. Just be thankful that your eyelashes are long enough not to need false ones.’ she said, wiggling the wand into the lash line and making his nose itch from the weird sensation. ‘Christ, you have gorgeous fucking eyes. I could make so much money if I had eyes like yours.’

‘I’m taking that as a compliment.’ Ross said, immensely thankful when she finished. He blinked a couple of times to clear his eyes. His lashes felt strangely heavy.

‘You should.’ She said standing back and looking at him critically. ‘If you make more tips than me tonight you are bloody well sharing. Well, stand up and have a look at yourself.’ Ross got, teetering a little on the unfamiliar height. Then he turned and his mouth fell open in shock when he saw himself.

His first thought was Oh, fuck me. His second thought was that he looked pretty damn good. His third thought was that Jim was going to freak when he finally got to see him like this (although that would not happen for a very long time).

He’d kept it fairly simple and gone with a biker chic theme that he’d thought would appeal to Jim. The corset was streamlined black leather, with a very slight sweetheart neckline. A bright chromed zip ran down the front and there were metal eyelets one the opposite side. There were buckles on the hips and sides of the chest. At the back were another two rows of eyelets with lacing running from the top to the bottom. Added to that were a pair of black stretch briefs that matched the corset, cut very high on the arse. He had been dubious about them, but Lucy had declared them perfect. Then the stockings, also black and sheer enough not to be dark but also thick enough not to snag. Those had taken several tries to get right and he’d had to go back a few times to buy more. They were clipped to the suspenders that ran from the bottom of the corset and made his legs look like they went on forever. The final touch were the boots, black and laced up the front, a little homage to his profession. They looked surprisingly like army boots, if army boots had block heels that was.

Ross turned his attention to his face and that was where the real magic had happened. Lucy was an artist. She used black shadow and glitter on his eyes and ringed them with an excess of black eyeliner, in and out and tamed his dark eyebrows into some semblance of style. It all made his irises look like they were glowing. The rest of his face she’d left fairly plain except for a hint of shimmer along his cheekbones and lips. She had left his hair untouched and it was a surprisingly soft contrast with the rest of his ensemble.

‘Fucking hell, Luce.’ he breathed. ‘If I make more tips than you tonight you can have all of them.’

‘I’m glad you like it.’ she said, then held out the elbow length black leather fingerless gloves he would also be wearing. She helped him put them on, and then they heard the music change. Both dressing rooms had speakers linked up to the main sound system so the dancers knew when one set was ending and one was beginning.

‘Time for me to go.’ Lucy said. ‘You’re going to kill them tonight.’

‘I hope so.’ Ross said turning back to look at himself once more. Lucy gave him a smile then left. Ross waited for her to close the door and then went to the bag for the final touch. He didn’t want anyone else to see it. It would be around his neck on stage, but only he would know the significance of it. He reached into the bag and pulled out the collar almost reverently. It was plain black leather with a chromed ring at the front, a standard bondage collar by all respects but with one subtle difference. The front loop had an o-ring on it and hanging from it was a sterling silver disc. He ran a thumb over the engraving. It had been outrageously expensive but the crest on it was rendered in perfect detail, the anchor and crown showing exactly who his owner was.

***********

Jim parked the car and went off to get a ticket while the girls extricated themselves. He’d been thankful to find a clean black button down in the wardrobe of his cabin and thrown it on over a white t-shirt and jeans. He stuck the ticket on the inside of his window and closed the door then locked the car. It was a black Golf GTI that he’d had for ten years, what Ross called his ‘boy racer’ car. He looked at Preston and Halford, both dressed to the nines in sparkly tops and matching denim micro minis, their long legs bare in spite of the cold. Preston was hopping up and down a little in excitement, no mean feat in six inch heels.

‘Come on, Jim.’ she said. ‘Let’s fucking go. No-one’s going to steal that piece of shit.’

‘This piece of shit got you here in record fucking time.’ He retorted and she giggled, taking his one arm. Halford got hold of the other one.

‘That’s more to do with the fact that you drive like a fucking maniac than anything else.’ Halford said.

They got down to the sea front, heading up one of the side streets to the address Carter had given them. The door to the club was suitably discreet and there was an enormous doorman on duty. He raised an unimpressed eye at them. Preston gave them his names and he stepped aside to let them in with an air of resignation.

‘Twat.’ Preston muttered as they went in. They followed a short corridor, painted black and dimly lit to the main room. Once inside they looked around. It was surprisingly small. Wooden tables and chairs scattered around the single podium. It was already after ten and it was clear that the three groups of people had been having a very good time.

The spotted the squad on the other side of the podium and made their way over. Carter spotted them first and cheered, which was then taken up by the rest of the group.

‘You made it!’ he said, and he was looking a little cross-eyed. None of the others seemed to be any better. Holmewood got up, grabbing Jim in a crushing bear hug.

‘You made it!’ he said, grinning from ear to ear, clearly drunk.

‘You’ve got a fuckload of drinking to catch up on.’ Richards said. He beckoned the server over and spoke into her ear. She went off and they found some empty chairs. On stage a gorgeous woman was dancing to Walk Like An Egyptian, her lithe body twisting around the pole like she weighed nothing.

‘Woof!’ Preston said. ‘She’s beautiful.’ The server returned with shots and beers and handed them out. She took hers and saluted Holmewood with it. ‘Your good health, Captain.’ The other two saluted him as well and threw their shots back. Jim pulled a face.

‘Why always the fucking tequila?’ he asked then looked around. ‘Where’s Ross?’

‘Er, he’s in the…head.’ Carter said. Jim frowned at him.

‘Really?’ he said.

‘Yeah.’ Carter said, looking like he was panicking slightly. Jim thought he knew why. Ross was not a good tequila drinker.

‘Is he throwing up already?’ he asked. Carter looked like he was trying to think up a really good cover story and Jim was about to call him on it when the song came to an end and the DJ announced the end of the set in her sultry voice.

‘That was the gorgeous Cleopatra, mistress of the exotic.’ There was enthusiastic applause. ‘But now I have been told we have a special guest in tonight. Will the Rt Honourable Rupert Holmewood stand up and take a bow?’ The group cheered and catcalled and shoved Holmewood off his chair so he was wavering gently in the spotlight directed on him. ‘I believe that Captain Holmewood is going to be marrying quote ‘the most terrifying woman in the Royal Tank Regiment’. Is that correct?’ Holmewood attempted a courtly bow and almost fell on his face.

‘It is!’ he shouted back. ‘She’s the light of my fucking life!’

‘That’s very good to hear.’ the DJ laughed. ‘We would hate to think that you would be tempted by our next exquisite dancer who has been especially commissioned just for you.’ There was a series of oohs from the squad and Holmewood grinned goofily. The stage lights went down and he was pulled into his seat. ‘And she is a rare beauty, the darling of the armed forces. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the beautiful Rosalind.’ There was more cheering from the assembled audience.

‘Shit,’ Jim said looking around, ‘Ross is going to miss this.’

‘Maybe not.’ Halford said cryptically. Jim was about to ask what she meant when the opening harpsichord notes of Bad Romance started and the lights slowly came up. A tall figure in black leather and stockings and knee high boots was standing in front of them facing away, leather gloved hands over the dancer's dark head head and grasping the pole. Then as Gaga’s voice kicked in they lifted the dancer up effortlessly to move around the pole.

There was sudden silence as the gathered squad watched the elaborate twirl around the pole that followed.

‘Holy fuck.’ Carter said. ‘He fucking didn’t…’

‘He fucking did.’ Digby said.

‘Who fucking what?’ Holmewood asked.

Across from him, Jim was spellbound. He was pretty sure he’d never seen anything so captivating. He’d already clocked that the dancer was a man, a tall, lithe and graceful one to boot. He was dressed in black leather reminiscent of bike gear and those long legs drew Jim’s eyes as the dancer hooked one ankle around the pole and lowered himself down, arms spread like he was being crucified. That was when Jim saw his face and the bottom fell out of his already lurching stomach.

‘Oh. My. Fuck.’ Preston said next to him. ‘It’s Ross!’

*********

Ross was having a surprising amount of fun. He’d been ready to throw up he was so nervous when he went onto the narrow stage and taken his place by the pole. But once the music kicked in and he lifted himself into the first position, the nerves magically melted away and he could focus just on what he was doing.

As he lowered on his first set piece, he could just make out people beyond the stage lights. He realised that the crowd had gone largely silent on the left hand side of him and correctly surmised that that was where the squad was sitting.  
Lucy had choreographed a three song set for him, fairly technically easy but very impressive to watch. She’d taught him to capitalise on his upper body strength and he swung around the pole easily, hooking his ankle and elbow to keep himself going as he took the next hold. The first song was pretty energetic but it would get progressively slower. He reached behind him, grasping the pole and pulling himself upright, using the crook of his knee to keep himself in place as he let go of the pole and leaned back. After a few revolutions, he reached back up and lowered himself to the floor.

The song ended and the next started. It was Slide by Missy Elliot and it was slower, and he used it to do the more complex moves that Lucy had taught him. He slid down the pole, knees splaying out and running his hands along his inner thighs then snapped back up, tossing his head and jumping into a hold, moving around the pole at speed. This was the bit he liked best, building up momentum, only touching the ground to push up and into the twirls and holds.

It ended as well, and then the finally song started up. This was the one he had chosen and refused to swap out. It was one of the songs he and Jim had chosen for what they did together in that hot room at the back of the house, and the part of the routine that he was hoping to show him, when he’d built up the confidence, although God knew where he’d find a pole to do it on. But as he moved it was Jim he was thinking about, him the words were for.

***********

Jim watched and felt like his heart was going to burst with the sudden rush of feeling the last song brought with it.

_Here is a plea_

_From my heart to you_

_Nobody knows me as well as you do_

_You know how hard it is for me to shake the disease_

_That takes hold of my tongue in situations like these_

The song was theirs. The words held special meaning for them both and it was one that had accompanied many of those moments together. And watching Ross dance up there, Jim could see that he was lost in it, completely unaware of the people watching him. It was also when he noticed something else, when Ross curled his arm around the pole and leaned back out, body describing a protracted arc around the pole and exposing the long beautiful line of his throat. That was when Jim saw the collar.

If he hadn’t already been indescribably turned on before, he was now.

**********

Ross came down gently, his feet hitting the ground with barely a jolt. He was thrilled. Every step had been perfect, but now was the best part. As the applause rose around him, he gave the audience a courtly bow and stepped back, waiting for the stage hand to bring out the chair.

This was the bit he was really looking forward to. Not with Holmewood of course, but as a dry run for Jim.

The music faded away and the DJ took up her microphone again. Ross stood to one side, chest heaving from exertion, to let the pole retract into the ceiling and the man from behind the stage dragged a weighted chair onto the stage. It needed to be very heavy to counteract the dancers’ weight and Ross was heavier than most of them, so some modifications had been made.

‘And now, a special moment for our groom to be. A private dance with the lovely Rosalind.’ The DJ crooned. ‘Well, as private as it gets in front of a stage full of people. Captain Holmewood, if you would like to come up?’

Ross watched as Holmewood was shoved towards the small step that led up to the stage. He climbed up, a little unsteady on his feet. Ross smiled and went over, taking him by the hand and guiding him to the chair. Holmewood squinted at him.

‘Fucking hell.’ He said, words slurring. ‘You look like a girl.’

‘Really?’ Ross laughed. ‘Even with the body hair?’ he shoved Holmewood onto the chair. ‘The boys have promised to buy all my drinks tonight if I get you to blush. So don’t think I’m going to go easy on you.’ He straddled Holmewood's knees and grasped the back of the chair with one hand. ‘So get ready, it’s not going to be pretty.’

The song started, the child’s sweet voice filling the club. Then the beat started and he began to dance.

_How could you leave me standing?_

_Alone in a world that is so cold_

_Maybe I’m just too demanding_

_Maybe I’m just like my father, too bold_

_Maybe I’m just like my mother, she’s never satisfied_

_Why do we scream at each other?_

_This is what it sounds like,_

_When doves cry_

And he was right. It wasn’t pretty. It was filthy and overtly sexual and Ross just threw himself into it. He did have a nights worth of drinks riding on it after all. He was also feeling very confident after the wonderful reaction his pole dance had got so he really didn’t care anymore what he looked like. And he’d chosen this song for himself. It was one he loved and he knew every nuance of it. He kept his movements in time with the music and Holmewood’s eyes widened. Ross allowed himself a crooked smile as he leaned over him, dragging his hands down Holmewood’s chest and stomach, thankful for the layers of clothing, before snapping back up, undulating over him. It was a little strange, but then he imagined it was Jim he was dancing for and closed his eyes, picturing what he would look like under him, the quickening of his breath. Before he knew it the music was changing again to Death in Vegas, the final song. Ross turned languidly, sitting on Holmewoods lap and bending forward until he was up again, hands running down the backs of his legs. He reached out, hands to the floor and lowered himself down, crawling slowly across the stage until he was a little way from the chair, turning onto his back and arching as he ran his hands down himself. Then he sat up, moving back onto his knees to go back, shoving Holmewoods knees apart and coming up slowly until he was back over him. He straightened up as the final strains came and then sat down on Holmewoods lap, legs coming up to hook over his shoulders and ankles locking behind Holmewood’s neck as he leaned back and took the final position. The lights cut out and then there was silence for a few moments. Then the applause started. It was thunderous.

Ross was panting hard from the past ten minute’s dancing and didn’t notice anything wrong at first. But then his senses started to re-focus and then he noticed something digging into his back.

And it wasn’t Holmewood’s mobile phone.

‘Fuck.’ he said and lost his grip, falling in a heap on the floor. Mortified he got up and headed backstage without even bothering to check of Holmewood was okay. It was only when he got to the dressing room and slammed the door behind him that he realised what he’d done.

He’d given Holmewood, his best friend and the straightest man alive, a hard on.

For a moment, Ross was horrified. Then something snapped and he started laughing. It started as a snort and got louder until he was giggling like a small child. If he’d managed to give Holmewood, who wasn’t even attracted to him, a hard on then just imagine what it would do to Jim. He was now determined to try it out on him as soon as he could set it up.

He calmed himself down and decided to get out of his costume as soon as possible. He was hot and sweaty, rivulets of it running down his back and into his briefs, his chest hair was matted with it and when he looked in the mirror he could see that he was flushed, although the eyeliner was doing a remarkable job of staying where it was. The glitter was another story, a great deal of it having migrated over his face. He looked like a fabulous miner.

**********

Preston was finally managing to get her frantic laughter under control. It had been Holmewood's look of complete an utter terror towards the end of Ross’ extremely sexy routine that had set her off. Around her the other members of the squad had managed to get a shell shocked Holmewood off stage and into a chair where they were feeding him beer in an attempt to restore his composure.

She wiped her eyes and looked around. It was then that she noticed something.

‘Jackie?’ she asked, ‘Where’s Jim?’

***********

Ross was debating as to whether he should tackle his make-up or boots first when there was a knock at the dressing room door. Thinking it was probably Lucy coming to laugh with him at the reaction he’d got he went to it without hesitation and opened it with a brilliant smile.

It wasn’t Lucy.

For a moment Ross was frozen. The look of Jim’s face could have killed at twenty paces. It was utterly feral. Ross had never seen him like that before. As his brain frantically tried to reconcile the fact that his boyfriend, who was currently supposed to be at a formal naval dinner entertaining visiting Brazilian sailors and absolutely nowhere near fucking Bournemouth, was actually now standing in front of him and looking like he wanted to kill Ross, he tried to think of something clever to say to defuse the very obvious situation that was at hand.

Instead all that came out was a squeak.

‘You’re supposed to be at dinner.’ Ross said. Jim’s eyes actually got more murderous, as if that was in any way possible.

‘You…’ he spat out and Ross was so taken aback that he actually physically retreated.

‘Jim…’ he started, but Jim cut him off.

‘No. I don’t want to hear it.’ he said, and Ross was ashamed to admit that the anger in his voice was probably one of the hottest things he’d ever heard. Jim sounded completely unhinged. He stormed in, slamming the door once more and came towards Ross. Ross backed up until he hit the edge of the dressing table. Jim crowded against him, and then it hit Ross.

Jim wasn’t angry.

He was aroused.

Very, very aroused.

‘So who do I have to fuck to get a private dance around here?’ he growled in Ross’ face and Ross felt his knees give way at the raw lust he heard in Jim’s voice.

‘That would be me.’ he said, and he could hear the tremble in his voice. He managed to get one hand up and push Jim away. ‘But you’d have to sit down for that. He guided Jim backwards until he could push him into the chair. His heart was pounding wildly and he was getting very hard very fast.

Jim went easily, sitting down and looking up at him, his blue-green eyes on fire. Ross stopped in front of him and Jim reached for him, hands running up the backs of his thighs. Ross wasn’t sure why he did what he did next, but he slapped Jim’s hands away.

‘We have rules here.’ he found himself saying. There was a flash of surprise in Jim’s eyes and then the arousal was back, burning even hotter than it had before.

‘Really.’ he said, his voice low and rough. ‘And what would those be.’

‘No touching.’ Ross said. ‘Only I’m allowed to touch you.’ He was starting to pant again, but this time it had nothing to do with physical exertion.

‘All right.’ Jim said, ‘I can do that.’ He leaned back in the chair and Ross took a deep breath as he came to straddle his knees. He could hardly breathe and it was only by focusing on the music that was coming through the sound system that he was able to recall what he needed to do. The heavy beats were perfect and he started to move.

_You let me violate you_

_You let me desecrate you_

_You let me penetrate you_

_You let me complicate you_

_Help me_

He started by placing both hands behind Jim’s head, bracing against the back of the chair, hips moving in slow undulations. His face was so close to Jim’s he could see his pupils dilating. There was tequila on his breath, and a hopelessly hot smell coming from his skin. Ross caught his breath as it hit him, going straight to his cock. He’d never felt this hard before and they hadn’t even touched yet. He leaned in, letting his mouth almost touch Jim’s skin but not quite, moving over his mouth and along his cheekbone. Jim moaned and tilted his head back and Ross dipped his head and licked in one long movement from the crook of his neck to his jaw, the acrid sting of sweat and aftershave on his tongue. He breathed over Jim’s ear and was pretty sure that he heard Jim lose his breath for a moment. He flicked his tongue against Jim’s ear and the sound he got was drawn out and low, it's tone pure sex.

‘Fuck, Ross…’ Jim breathed. ‘Oh God…’ he started panting, a harsh short sound that got louder as Ross ground down against him, hard cocks connecting and Jim arched up against him. Ross thrust down again and then lifted up teasingly. He looked down and saw that Jim’s hands were clenched in fists, knuckles white with the effort not to touch him. He looked back at Jim, into the wide blown eyes and felt a surge of power he’d never experienced before. For a moment he wondered if this was what Jim felt when he dominated him. Then he dragged his nails down Jim’s chest, finding the hard nipples through the fabric of his shirt. Ross ran his thumbs over them and Jim gasped.

‘Harder.’ he hissed and Ross lowered his head, biting at them through his shirt, first one and then the other. Jim was shaking now, and he closed his eyes tightly, the ecstasy written clearly on his face. Ross grabbed the hem of his shirt, dragging it up to expose his chest and then sucked hard at one nipple, fingers working the other. Jim keened loudly, and Ross thought for a second that he was going to break and touch him, but he didn’t. An evil thought suddenly kicked off inside Ross, and he knew what he wanted more than anything.

He wanted Jim to lose control.

I want to fuck you like an animal

He bit down, a little harder than he normally would, teeth dragging over Jim’s nipple and heard the answering groan. He dropped one hand to the front of Jim’s jeans, finding his cock and taking it in hand as best he could. Then he lifted his mouth from Jim’s skin as he worked his cock and started talking.

He knew that Jim like dirty talk but they didn’t do it too much, mostly because he felt ridiculous doing it. But tonight all the rules were being turned upside down. He looked down at here his hand was moving on Jim’s cock and then back up at him.

‘You’re so fucking hard.’ He breathed and Jim’s eyes flew open, wide and unfocused. ‘Your cock feels so big and all I want is to have it inside me. I want to feel every inch of it going in, and the fucking me so hard I can’t breathe.’

‘Oh Jesus Christ…’Jim breathed back, ‘I want to be inside you so fucking much.’

‘Yeah?’ Ross asked, his hand working faster now. ‘You want to fuck me? You want to go hard and deep?’

‘Yes.’ Jim’s voice was cracked and broken. He sounded wrecked already. ‘I want that so much.’ His eyes downcast, watching Ross’ hand on him. As he looked up a strange look crossed his face and Ross realised that he was looking at the collar. Ross knew the moment he saw the tag and the crest because it felt like he’d stopped breathing for a minute. He watched Jim’s face carefully, even stopping what he was doing when he noticed that Jim was just staring at it.

‘It’s for you.’ he stammered. ‘It’s to show that I’m yours. That I belong to you.’ He waited for Jim to look up at him, and then what he saw was more than he could have possibly asked for.

Jim’s eyes were glowing with love and pride and happiness. It made Ross’ heart feel like it was going to explode.

Then the glow disappeared, replaced by a raging fire that surged and flickered. And then Jim grabbed him hard, pulling Ross forward against him and just lifted him out of the chair with him. He carried them both, going with the momentum until they slammed into the dressing room door. Then he held Ross there.

‘Kiss me.’ he demanded and Ross did, mouths crashing together, no formalities needed as they shoved their tongues into each other’s mouths, hot and wet and messy. Ross was trapped between Jim’s body and the door, Jim’s hands under his knees keeping him up and his hard thrusts pinning him in place. It was dirty, hard dry fucking and Ross was going crazy with it. He moaned and whined into Jim’s mouth, his cock straining for release. Then Jim suddenly dropped him and pulled away from him. He was on his knees before Ross even realised what he was doing, hands at the briefs Ross wore, swearing in frustration before he got hold of the fabric in both hands and just ripped it.

‘Oh fucking hell…’ Ross panted.

‘Shut up.’ Jim snapped, before grabbing the other side and doing the same thing, dragging them off Ross and chucking them on the floor. He grasped Ross’ cock and licked the head and Ross nearly went through the roof. Jim wasted no time, taking him all the way in, sucking hard. Ross grabbed at his hair with both hands, crying out and Jim backed him against the door. Ross watched his blond head moving back and forwards and threw his head back as the sensations overwhelmed him. He looked ahead and saw them in the mirror, him with his mouth open as he panted and moaned, and Jim’s blond head moving in a steady rhythm. It was utterly intoxicating and he was compelled to watch.

‘Oh God, Jim.’ he moaned, ‘This is so good. I’m watching us in the mirror and its’ so fucking hot.’ Jim pulled off, and he looked over his shoulder briefly, then back at Ross.

‘You like that?’ he rasped and Ross nodded frantically. Jim got up, using Ross as leverage and then backed him into the door again, eyes glittering.

‘You want to watch me fuck you in the mirror?’ he asked and Ross could hardly answer him, he was breathing so hard. He settled for nodding. Jim grabbed him by both arms and dragged him away from the door. He turned Ross and steered him back towards the chair. Then he let him go long enough to spin the chair around to the back was against the edge of the dressing table.

‘On your knees.’ he said to Ross. ‘I want to fuck you from behind so we can both watch.’ Ross scrambled onto the chair, Jim coming up behind him. He pushed Ross forward so Ross had to kneel on the chair with his hands on the dressing table, then came up behind him and reached down and pulled Ross legs open further. ‘That’s it.’ he said, ‘I want you open for me.’ He wet his thumb in his mouth and then it was at Ross’ entrance, circling, the saliva mingling with the sweat and the pushing in. Ross braced himself on the dressing table and looked up, his face inches away from the mirror with its row of light bulbs that illuminated everything. His face was sweaty and flushed, the eye make-up a running mess and his light coat of lip shimmer gone. Instead his mouth was swollen and bruised and he watched himself as Jim used his thumb to stretch him. He looked up and their eyes connected.

‘Fuck me, Jim.’ Ross said. ‘Fuck me like this. Show me who I belong to.’ He knew he was pushing but he wanted it, wanted it so badly he could taste it. He was so hard and he reached for himself, groaning as he stroked his cock.

‘Fuck.’ Jim said. He knelt on the edge of the chair and then his tongue was on Ross, and he howled as Jim licked at him, tongue dipping in and alternating with his fingers until Ross was wet and loose and desperate to be fucked.

‘Come on.’ he begged. ‘Fuck me. Please.’ Jim growled against him and the he straightened up and Ross watched as he undid his belt and almost tore open his jeans, shoving them and his boxers down until his cock was out. Then he spat in his hand a few times and used it to wet himself and Ross almost came from seeing that. He lined himself up, grabbed Ross’s hips and drove inside him with no consideration or finesse, making Ross scream and move his hand so both were bracing himself again. It burned and stretched in a way he had never experienced and that made him realise just how far gone Jim was. But instead of wanting to stop, knowing how out of control Jim was just made him want to go faster and harder, to make him incoherent with want.

‘Please.’ he groaned, ‘Please…’ Jim moaned loudly and then he was moving, pounding into Ross so hard, he almost hit the mirror. Ross cried out, and tried to push back but the surface of the table was plasticised and slippery and he could get enough grip. He threw out one hand to brace against the mirror, looking up to watch them. It was incredibly arousing, Jim’s face almost angry in its intensity, all his control gone as he slammed into Ross harder than he’d ever fucked him before. The sound of their bodies impacting was loud in Ross’ ears, their harsh animal grunts and pants filling him up and making him crazy.

‘Fuck…’ Jim ground out through gritted teeth, the vowel drawn out. ‘You’re so fucking tight…oh, fuck, Ross!’ He was quickly losing rhythm and Ross went with him, knowing he didn’t need to be touched to come tonight, that all he had to do was keep up. He knew Jim was close and clenched hard, and Jim growled like an angry dog and gave him a resounding slap on his exposed backside. His blunt nails scrabbled at Ross’ thighs, ripping the stockings and pulling him open even more, driving relentlessly. Ross looked up, his eyes locking with Jim’s in the mirror. Jim was gone, eyes black and blown and his mouth open as he panted. Ross smiled at him, a blissful shattered smile.

‘Come on.’ he demanded, ‘Come inside me.’ He clenched again and Jim dragged his nails over him and then Ross felt the tidal surge of orgasm coming for him. It was so intense that he completely lost control and knew that when it hit he would be able to do nothing but take it.

‘Yes.’ Jim moaned with him. ‘You’re mine. Mine. No-one else will ever fuck you but me. Say it!’

‘I’m yours.’ Ross gasped, ‘Only yours. Yours to fuck forever.’ As the word left his mouth his orgasm hit, making him scream and collapse against the mirror as he came all over the chair. Jim followed, harsh cry making him hoarse, and Ross felt himself being filled, the warmth inside him marking him as Jim’s.

Jim shuddered through his aftershocks, and the collapsed against Ross, chest heaving and breathing completely erratic. They stayed like that, incapable of moving.

Jim finally raised his head.

‘Bloody hell, Ross.’ he muttered. ‘You could have fucking warned me.’ Ross met his eyes in the mirror, glazed over and wrecked.

‘How the fuck was I to know you’d react like this?’ he protested, but it sounded weak in his ears. Jim huffed a soft laugh and then slowly pulled out. He grabbed a discarded hand towel from the dressing table and wiped himself down, then pulled his jeans back up. Then he took the two steps back to the door and leaned against it heavily.

Ross was so exhausted he could hardly move. Then he felt it, a slow trickle of coolness down the inside of his thighs. He reached down with one hand, dragging through it. He brought his hand up, looking at Jim’s semen on his fingers. It smelt so strongly of him and Ross couldn’t help himself. He licked it off, the taste bitter and so inherently Jim on his tongue. Then he looked up again to see Jim watching him, eyes completely focused on him. Ross gave him a crooked smile.

‘I love you.’ he said. Jim’s eyes glowed as he looked back at him.

‘And I fucking love you.’ he replied.


End file.
